


Man up and go down

by myrish_lace



Series: Adventures in sexting [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chocolate, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Diners, Embarrassment, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Kissing, One Shot, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 18:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13506846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrish_lace/pseuds/myrish_lace
Summary: Jon Snow wakes up after a drunken night out to the terrifying realization that he sexted Sansa Stark about how much he likes her and wants to go down on her. Not how he planned on making a first impression. Thankfully, Sansa agrees to meet him at a restaurant, where Jon tries to apologize. Chocolate cake finally breaks the ice, and Jon and Sansa head back to Sansa's apartment so he can prove how good he is with his tongue.





	Man up and go down

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel to the drunken texting fic! This is a little less explicit than I planned - hope you don't mind!

Jon’s mouth was full of sand. He ached all over and he wanted to turn off the sun that pierced his window blinds. Where the hell had he been last night?

Snippets of sobbing on Marg’s shoulder came back to him. Then the spinning bar and the texting – oh god the horrible, horrible texting – came crashing down.

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck._

Bailey’s was devil juice and he’d acted like a drunken jerk and he’d texted Sansa – no, he’d _sexted_ Sansa. He groaned. No. No no no no no no. He scrambled for his phone on his nightstand. Best find out how thoroughly he’d screwed himself. He took a deep breath and squinted at the screen.

All he had in his phone from Sansa was–

 **Sansa** : Cocky, Jon.

 **Sansa** : He just wasn’t into it, Jon. It’s not a big deal.

 **Sansa** : How do you know you’d like it anyway?

 **Sansa** : :) still cocky Jon

 **Sansa** : Yes I’m here, Jon.

That’s it. That’s all.

 _Fuck_.

He vaguely remembered seeing Marg’s screen where Sansa had said something nice. He’d been giddy with happiness which led to that humiliating string of emojis. 

Jon flopped back on his bed and threw an arm over his face. He’d hoped his first conversation with Sansa would be dignified. At a nice restaurant. He would have made her laugh, and broached the subject of his affection gracefully.

Or, you know, not (Sparkling Heart )(Sparkling Heart )(Sparkling Heart )(Sparkling Heart )(Smiling Face With Heart-Shaped Eyes )(Smiling Face With Heart-Shaped Eyes )(Smiling Face With Heart-Shaped Eyes )(Smiling Face With Heart-Shaped Eyes )(Kissing Face )(Kissing Face )(Kissing Face )(Kissing Face )(Face Throwing A Kiss )(Face Throwing A Kiss )(Face Throwing A Kiss )(Face Throwing A Kiss )(Tongue )(Smiling Face With Halo )  _Jesus_ _Jon_.

He was going to die cold and alone with an apartment full of empty pizza boxes. He wanted to pull the blankets over his head and never wake up.

Except that was what his friend Sam called self-sabotaging behavior and apparently he was better than that and needed to stop moping. Jon scowled. He was not moping. He was responding reasonably to his own shitty behavior as a guy who didn’t deserve a girlfriend and no, yep, that was moping.

His phone buzzed.

 **Sansa** :  _typing_

 _Shit_.

 **Sansa:** Good morning Jon. How are you feeling?

_Like I blew my chance with you in a spectacular display of idiocy._

He settled on:

 **Jon:** Fine, thanks for checking up on me. Sorry about last night.

Silence from Sansa. That was for the best. He rolled over and had almost dozed off when his phone buzzed again.

 **Marg:** Jon?

Was Marg pissed at him? That was fair. That was probably fair.

 **Marg:** I am so pissed at you right now

You and me both, Jon thought.

 **Jon:** Marg I’m sorry, please tell Sansa I’ll never talk to her again

 **Marg** : _typing_

 **Jon:** Honestly I promise I’ll leave her alone she deserves better

Marg: _typing_

Jon sighed.

 **Marg:** Wtf Jon why are you ignoring Sansa? She’s over here sniffling wither head on my shoulder and I refuse to ruin two designer tops for the pair of you pull your shit together and text her back and tell her you care about her and you want to rock her world with your tongue get on that Johnny boy and I mean rn

 **Jon:** How much of last night was real?

 **Marg:** All of it you dork. All of it.

Time to man up.

***

Within the next two days Jon managed to call Sansa, arrange a date at the little diner up the street from her apartment, and keep a lid on the panic that buzzed like a swarm of bees in his chest. When the day arrived he scraped together some courage, pulled on jeans and a button-down shirt, and drove to the restaurant.  

The diner was a medley of chrome and red plastic, a fifties throwback with one long counter, two short-order cooks, and cushioned booths with Formica tops. He spotted Sansa instantly in a corner booth. She was wearing a light blue dress, and fiddling with a pepper shaker.

She spied Jon and a smile lit up her face. Jon could not for the life of him understand why Sansa Stark was a) single and b) willing to go on a “I’m so sorry I failed at sexting last week” date/apology.

Jon walked over and sat down across the table.

“Thanks for doing this Sansa. I’m sorry-“

Sansa shook her head. “It’s not a hardship Jon. It’s good to see you.”

“You too. Hey, I really am s-”

Sansa waived him off and started chatting. Jon barely kept up. How did you ask a girl about her classes and hobbies when she knew exactly how badly you wanted to go down on her?

A skinny waiter stopped by for their orders. They’d polished off a burger each, exchanging only a few words. Sansa hailed the waiter and for one awful moment Jon thought she was calling for the check. She ordered the triple chocolate cake instead. Jon shook his head when the waiter asked him if he wanted dessert. Sansa looked slightly crestfallen.

 _If I was suave I’d tell her I want her for dessert._ Jon was, sadly, not suave. The silence stretched out between them.

Sansa cleared her throat, dabbing a bit of ketchup away from her chin. “So I sort of miss drunk Jon? I mean I don’t want you to get drunk every day but…I miss how open you were. I’ve never had so many compliments in a row.” A deep blush crept up her neck and Jon wanted to chase it with his tongue.

Jon reached across the table and held out his hand. She smiled at him and laced her fingers with his. _At some point you’re going to have to take the lead here Jon_.

“So you should always get that many compliments in a row, maybe not with so many tongue emojis–“ Sansa coughed and was that to hide a laugh? “Or, um, crudeness because that was not cool of me Sansa.”

The corner of Sansa’s mouth quirked. “Well I’m not sure if it was so much crudeness as…” She started blushing again but powered through it. “You know, sexting. And keeping me posted on how much the bar was spinning around.”

Sansa patted the seat next to her in the booth. “Come sit with me.” Jon’s heart pounded but he slipped in next to her. This was much worse, because now he was close enough to smell her hair and sense her warmth. The waiter plopped Sansa’s three–layer chocolate cake in front of her.

Sansa picked at the treat. She turned to him and took a deep breath. “Jon, that night...you called me an angel and you said my hair was pretty and that you really liked me. Did you mean it? Or...just the part about your tongue?”

Jon took her hand again, squeezing her fingers. _Do not fuck this up again._  “I meant all of it, the tongue part and all the other parts. I really like you, Sansa. I just didn’t want to spring it on you like that.”

“Is Bailey’s like your kryptonite?”

The corner of Jon’s mouth quirked. If she only knew. “Maybe. But I’m glad I got to tell you how I felt. It was worth it.”

Sansa ducked her head and turned back to the cake, spearing a forkful of it. “Here. Share this with me.”

“You first,” Jon said. Chocolate wasn’t high up on his list of favorite flavors.

Sansa closed her eyes and muffled a moan as she bit into the cake. How Jon was jealous of a dessert, he wasn’t sure, but he was.

“Wow,” he croaked.

“Wow what?”

Jon cleared his throat. _I’d totally go down on you right now, here in this diner, because I bet I can make you feel better than that cake did._

Sansa put her fork down and nudged him. “Why are you staring? Do I have chocolate on my nose?” That blush crept up her neck again. Jon allowed himself to believe this was real. It could go somewhere. Sansa wasn’t an angel on a pedestal. She was a beautiful woman right in front of him who wanted to know what he could do with his tongue.

“I - I want to chase that cake, Sansa,” he blurted. “I want to kiss you.”

Sansa smiled. “So chase it.”

Jon touched his lips to hers. Sansa surprised him by tangling her fingers in his hair and slipping her tongue into his mouth. _She wants this, she’s worked up, maybe…maybe she’s even thought about it?_

He made a sound low in his throat and kissed her harder, letting his insecurity drop away, focusing on how soft her lips were, how she tasted like chocolate, how she urged him on when he broke away and started kissing her neck. She was gasping now, her hand trailing down his shirt–

“Excuse me sir.” Their skinny waiter’s eyes were narrowed into slits. “Patrons are complaining. I’ve brought your check.” He tossed it on the table hard enough that it almost tipped over a water glass. “Please play tonsil hockey with your girlfriend, wife, whatever, somewhere else.”

Sansa giggled. “Wife? Wow, we must be newlyweds.” Her eyes were shining and she was a little out of breath. I did that, Jon thought, pride swelling in his chest. Suck it, chocolate cake.

Sansa reached for the check and Jon caught her hand. “Jon, don’t be one if those guys, I can pay my own way.”

Jon kissed her knuckles and smiled to himself when her eyes fluttered shut. _Don’t get cocky, Jon_. “Hey, I know you can, but that will just make the check take longer and I want to get back to kissing you, so let me cover it? We can figure it out later, I promise.”

Sansa exhaled. “Yeah. Okay.”  

Jon dug around in his wallet and paid with actual cash, leaving a ridiculous tip, because he was too impatient to stick around while the waiter with the bad attitude ran a credit card. “Let’s get out of here, Sansa.“

Sansa nodded. “I walked here...can I ride home with you? It’s only a five-minute drive to my place.”

"Absolutely."

Sansa grabbed her coat and they both practically ran out of the restaurant. The drive was brief, as promised. Sansa hopped out of the car and raced up the steps to her apartment. Jon followed. As soon as she unlocked the door they both burst into the hallway. Jon felt light-headed. Sansa was in his system, like a drug, and he needed to kiss her again.

Jon caught sight of a pink sofa but before he could tug Sansa in that direction, she crashed into his arms. He pulled her close instinctively, kissing her again, _finally_ , pressing her against the door frame without realizing in, plunging his hands into her hair.

This was no alcohol-soaked illusion, or fevered dream. Sansa whined as he deepened the kiss, taking his time, teasing her, licking at the seam of her lips till she sighed and opened her mouth for him. He pulled back and slowed down, drawing a needy whimper from Sansa. He ghosted his lips over the shell of her ear, then the underside of her jaw, until she was canting her hips against him.

“Jon, please, no more teasing, show me. Please.”

Jon smiled, curving his lips against her neck. “Already? I could kiss you like this for hours, Sansa-“

“Later,” she whispered, “but not now, Jon.” She pushed down on his shoulders. “Please, I’ve dreamed about it.”

Another man might have been able to resist that plea, but Jon was not that man. He dropped to his knees, the sofa forgotten, running his hand up the soft skin of her thigh.

Sansa hiked up her dress as he kissed his way higher. He brushed the edge of her blue lace panties and bit his lip at how wet she was.

“Sansa can I-“

“Yes, Jon, _yes_.”

He took one last look at her face before he leaned in.

***

“So how was it?” Jon pressed a kiss to Sansa’s temple. They were curled up on the sofa. Jon’s jaw ached, but that was a small price to pay for hearing Sansa say _I think I lost count after six._

Sansa sighed happily. “Better than chocolate cake.” She tapped her lips. “You know…I like chocolate cake, a lot, but I love lemon cake.” She kissed his cheek. “Think you can be better than lemon cake?”

“Can I watch you eat it?”

“Why?”

Jon combed his fingers through her hair. “Well, one, because I love the sounds you make and two, because I need to know what I’m up against if I’m knocking lemon cake out of the number one spot.”

Sansa scrunched up her nose. “Like how orgasmic I am?”

Jon laughed. “Exactly like that.”

“So you think you can do better?”

Jon grinned. He could still taste Sansa on his tongue, sharp and sweet and addictive. “Yep.”

Sansa tilted her head. “This pretty much works in my favor either way, doesn’t it?”

Jon nuzzled at her neck. “Yeah, it does. Except I’m totally beating lemon cake.”

Sansa smirked, but her eyes were closed in bliss. “Don’t get cocky, Jon.”


End file.
